Circle the Drain
by drifted-haiku
Summary: It ends like this. Two shots to the chest. - Mordern A/U where Robb Stark makes guest appearances throughout because I like him and Morgana.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the characters, only this story so © by drifted-haiku.2013. Distribution of any kind is prohibited without the written consent of moi.

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_P_rologue

It ends like this.

Two shots to the chest.

He's hunching on the ground. Her breathing turns shallow and he gasps for air. The room spins; and there's a siren that goes off in her head. The tears blur her eyes and the gun slips from his grip. His hand presses against his chest but the blood still pours and stains his shirt. He hits the ground and she stumbles back.

He exhales and she inhales. His hands turn cold and hers are never warm to begin with.

_Bang bang._

_Long live the King_

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**Author's** **Note**: I've been missing ArMor and writing so I guess that's what I'm trying to do with this story, filling that void. I'm still working out the details of this story but the first chapter should be up soon. And Robb Stark is also part of this AU world. How big a role he plays, I have no idea but we shall see. As always, C/C is welcomed =)


	2. This is How It Starts

_I love you __like a man loves a woman he never touches_

_Only thinks about and is consumed by_

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Morgan Lefay slips quietly and undetected through the crowd. Her curls dance amongst the sea of red faces and noisy chatter. She stares around the room, finding it as suffocating as it was when she was ten. The years may have sharpened her features, reddened her lips, and given her tougher skin, but there's still hate in her eyes. It seeps in her bones, aching, and dying to break out so she holds her breath, and she counts to ten. She tries not to think about the fact that she's been cleaned, trimmed and groomed from head to toes to fit the Pendragon's name because anything less is unacceptable. There's a 50,000 dollar dress wrapped on her body, pair of studded black diamond shoes on her feet and two diamond studs that hang off her ears. They do nothing but sink her farther into the ground. She sees her mother standing with her arms link to his, laughing and glowing like rays of sunshine that it makes her wants to gather all of that happiness and smash it to oblivion. She doesn't and instead just chucks the drinks down faster. She wants her throat to burns as much as her insides do.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

Her breathing hitches. It's not hard to guess whose voice it is, though the tone of it has changed to almost a deeper, raspier and earthier sound. "Yeah, like a painting coming to life," she says; fingers curl around the glass and voice drips with sarcasm before she's greeted by a pair of familiar blue eyes, and an arrogant smirk peering down. Though she has anticipated running into him, her knees still buckle and her cheeks turns a shade darker under his gaze. She blames it on the alcohol though she knows better. "Didn't think I would see you here, Arthur. You hate these sort of events."

He stands tall. One hand on a glass and the other in his pocket. There's not a trace of tension on his face or his shoulders when he answers, "It's my father's 10th wedding anniversary," like it's the most natural statement to ever escape from that pretty lips of his. His father has trained him well in the years she's been gone.

She chuckles, a small rumble in the back of her throat like he has told a funny joke. "It's also my mother," she says, "but we both know neither means much."

"Touché." He then looks around, puts down his glass and holds his hand out. "Care for a dance?"

She contemplates for a second then accepts. "I guess."

He pulls her out to the floor. One hand grips hers and the other is placed on her back. His fingers spread out flatly at the curvature. The warmth from them spread all the way to her toes, making them quiver with delight. She takes in a trembling breath because everything feels too familiar, too comforting and too much. It makes her thinks about putting some distance in between them, perhaps a couple of inches between his body and hers; they're not lovers and therefore there should be no reason for them to have their bodies so close t. She thinks but she doesn't act. Rather, she lets her eyes skim his face. The years have aged him and erased the boyishness that she used to know. His blue eyes have turned a shade darker, almost matching the early night sky while his hair looks like it's been kissed by the sun. He's taller, more self assured and there are lines near his eyes and mouth where there weren't before. "You look good, Arthur." She leaves out the part where she misses him. "Time has been kind to you."

There's a flicker of emotion, possibly surprised or regret, before he says, "As it has been for you," as his voice softens and his gaze turns affectionate. He skims past her face, noting how much more vibrant her green eyes have become under the light. They seem to carry stories that he does not know and perhaps will never find out; some things will never change, he supposes. "How long has it been again?"

Almost eight years, her lips want to say but she just angles her head back to distance herself, not that it helps anyway; because it's never the closeness of their bodies that bothers her if she's to be honest. "Some years."

He seems hesitant at first, then says, "I've missed you." It's not a declaration of love but it's close enough to make her recoil. She has to remind herself that he's a Pendragon now and he can lie with the best of them.

"Is that so?"

It was a rhetorical statement but he answers regardless. "Yes, that is so."

She turns quiet.

"You finished school and disappeared," he continues. There's no malice or hidden motive in his tone. Just plain facts. "I looked."

She offers him no further explanation than the generic, "I needed time. I needed space," but they both know better. _She spent the years running._

"I'm sorry." It's another useless thing that he says because he was young, stupid, and weak. She was passionate, and reckless. The oldest story in the book. Boy meets girl. Boy falls for girl. Vice versa. Somewhere along the way, boy and girl plunged knives into each other's backs. The scars serve as a constant remainder for their divide.

"Don't be," says Morgana as she keeps her voice steady and free of any internal turmoil that she's going through. The things she want to forget and the things she felt come rushing back all at once. Ones fill with broken promises and rushed kisses from watchful eyes. Those memories should have bled into nothingness with the last eight years, except they didn't. Seeing him again reminds her that all she has done was locked it up, buried it deep, but not killed it. "It was my fault for thinking that your loyalties lied with me rather than your father." The words sting her tongue and makes her cringe with pain. "I should thank you for opening my eyes."

His brows come together. "Morgana."

"It's Morgan now," she corrects quickly.

"_Morgana_."

"Don't," she warns, her voice dips and her fingers shake; the anger spreads to her heart, perhaps a little too fast as the blood rushes from her head almost topples her over. She feels like throwing up just thinking about it all. "Don't call me _in_ t_hat way_. You don't have the right to anymore."

He looks like she has slapped him in the face.

A deep inhale to recollect herself. "So are you here alone?"

"Do you care?" retorts Arthur.

The weight of his question makes her chest throb. "No." It's not a complete lie, she tells herself. "Whatever it is that you do behind closed doors is up to you."

"Liar."

Her face turns pale but she quickly recovers with a smile. "Only to a bruised ego does the truth sound like a lie."

"Toward the bar, standing with the Hiltons."

She sees a curvy brunette standing over the bar. Thousands of things pop into her head because she knows that face. Daughter of Cornwell. An oil tycoon. A Harvard graduate. She's different than the typical blond hair blue eyes models that Morgan has often seen splashing all over the tabloids magazine."I'm impress."

"Her name's Gwen."

"I didn't ask."

"Didn't have to."

She doesn't let her guard drop. "For her sake, I hope she knows what she's getting herself into."

He has a stupid grin on his face from her response. "You sound jealous."

"Yes, I'm brimming with envy."

He then dips her low and leans in close. He whispers softly into her ears. "I'm yours." Then he lifts her back up. "_Always._"

She looks down; smile falters briefly. "Though with all the girls you've kept by your side, I'm sure you have tried." Once the song ends, she lets go of him before the next one could come on, but he still has a firm grasp around her waist. "The song has ended."

"All you have to do is say the word and she's gone." Then he stares at her, and it's a look she hasn't seen in a while. It reminds her how butterflies in her stomach used to feel. "Say it and I'm all yours."

His words were filled with such conviction that she almost doubts her own. The urge of wanting to accept almost passes her tongue because she wants so much to believe in her, in them, in their ability to mend their mistake. _Almost._ "She's not a toy, Arthur. You can't just throw her away once you're done."

"I don't care." He sounds like the stubborn kid that she knew growing up. One that ran away when he was forced to go on an arranged date set up by his father or missed all of his corporate training to take over Pendragon Inc. in the near future.

"You're being childish," says Morgan, "Now let me go."

He lingers before obliging. "I'm serious."

"Enough of this," says Morgan, sighing with annoyance. "Go back to your date. She seems like a sweet girl. Don't make her wait like the others."

He looks back at Gwen, whose eyes are kept on him. "Is that your final answer?"

"Yes." She then swallows hard and rubs her ring finger. Throat tightens and tongue dries, she says, "I'm getting married, Arthur."

Arthur's lips part, and his eyes wrinkle together, confused, like he doesn't understand. "Married?"

"His name is Robb. I wanted to wait before letting anyone know. Well, your father knows but I told him that I didn't want to make a big deal until he arrives."

He grabs her left hand. "You're not wearing a ring."

"I put it away for obvious reasons."

"I see." He the clears his throat. "Who is this _Robb_?"

"We met after I finished school."

He clicks his tongue, finally putting the clues together. "So that's why you disappeared. You didn't want father to know. You thought that he might disapprove."

"On the contrary, Robb is the heir to Stark corporation. His family is one of the biggest steel manufacturer in the northern part of Europe. They're second only to the Lannisters. Your father is more than thrilled of the match as it gives him a foothold into the northern market."

"You know, sometimes I forget that ambition also runs deep in your veins," he scoffs, bitterly, "Father must be proud to have a daughter like you."

Rolling her eyes, "Like your intentions are pure," she shoots back, letting her emotions get the better of her. "Does your date knows that she's just another conquest in the long line of ladies that you have dropped at the snap of your fingers? Or is she permanently staying around because her wealth is of valued to you? Something that I have no doubt has been arranged for you by your father to claim and expand the Pendragon's name, so judge me if you must but don't delude yourself into thinking you're any better."

"Gwen is a lovely girl. My feelings are genuine."

"And I'm sure you have told her you loved her like so many others," she smirks, "Tell me, did you sweep her off her feet with some romantic gestures? Flowers sent to her like she meant something to you? Did she believe you when you told her that she was the only one? Did her eyes naively light up from all your empty promises? Did you paint yourself as a romantic who would run away for love and leave all behind?"

He chuckles. "Are you mad that I ran away with some whore some months ago when I didn't it for you?" A cold, slit cut across his lips as he basks in the satisfaction if watching her squirm, even if it barely lasts for more than a second. He then closes the distance between them. "Be honest, Morgan," says Arthur, and she swears she could feel her suicidal heart slamming itself against her rib cage from their proximity. "You and I both know that he'll never be me."

She pulls back and stares at him, startled by his words. She then tiptoes to meet his eyes and leans in just close enough that he almost withdraws from her. She merely smiles by his reaction. "That's because he's better in _every way_," she whispers against his lips; hers just slightly grazing his before she hears a quiet intake of the breath in his side. This is Arthur that she knows like the back of her hand. This Arthur she can deal with. The one that shifts uncomfortably from her lightest touch. The one that she can play, runs her fingers across his keys and knows how to make him sing. "Careful Arthur or else I might think you're not as different as you like people to believe."

For once, he has nothing to quip.

"Don't," she hums when she sees his face turns red, "make a scene, Arthur."

His jaw clenches. "We are Pendragons. We don't make scenes."

"No, you just leave them instead."

If he was affected by her words, he hides it well. "I see." Before she protests, he presses a gentle kiss to her cheeks. "Bye Morgan." He gives her no time to react before walking back to his date. In between dancing and hiding out in the coat closet, Arthur kisses Gwen with such fervor that it's not her mouth he's thinking about; it's not her skin that he's imagining running his fingers across and if he squints long enough, he thinks he can see black upon auburn and green eyes upon brown. It's such a fucked up thing, he thinks, to be fucking someone and thinking of someone else.

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**Author's Note: **this chapter is a bit awkward, maybe I'll edit it later. I think I need a beta. Anyway, I hope it reveals a bit what the plot is. Thank you for reading and as always C/C are always welcome!


	3. The Scars Come Undone (Part I)

_What a wicked game you play to make me feel this way_

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He sees her first and calls her name out in the dark.

Startled, she looks back and sees a boy she hasn't thought of in years stepping into the light. He's grown taller even if he still slouches. His hair almost matches her own, black like the night, though his eyes echo Arthur's color more than hers. His shoulders has become broader and the suit he wears fits him well. They emphasizes all the right places and she always thought there was something underneath all that baggie sweats that he always worn. They stare at one another and neither says much. Just the warm air slipping in between their lips. She breaks into a smile when he does too. "Merlin." It feels almost foreign to her lips, haven't been uttering it for so long. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, awhile." He then kicks the dirt with his left feet nervously, and stuffs his hands in his pocket. He looks like a child, instead of a man. "I didn't know you were coming home."

"Not a lot knew."

She notices his eyes scanning her face. She wonders if he's trying to read her thoughts like the years of their childhood. "Is there something in my face or am I so mesmerizing that you can't take your eyes off me?"

He blushes, embarrassed that he's caught. "Sorry. Old habits die hard."

"So you have a habit of staring at me? Or do you do it to all the ladies?"

He says nothing, only chuckles uncomfortably.

Her left brow raises; she says, "Do I make you nervous Merlin?"

"No... Um.. of course not." His right hand then clumsily runs through his hair as he looks down; cheeks turn a shade darker. "I was never great at talking to the opposite sex."

"I'm sure they wouldn't want to do much talking with you if they were to see you in a suit," she teases, earning another embarrassed bow of the head from him. "It looks good on you."

"Oh this?" He looks down at the suit on his body. "Uncle Gais insisted that I should dress like a human being, instead of the sweats I have on my days off from the hospital. He recommended his tailor and ta-da...? I mean, it's tighter than the clothes I'm used to. Doctors' coats are lighter and my normal clothes are-" He stops when he sees her amused expression. "I'm rambling, didn't I?"

Shaking her head, she says, "Come. Sit next to me." She then pulls him by the arm and he's reminded of the times when he felt giddy from her touch alone. He knows that he shouldn't feel that way but being closed to her makes him forget it sometimes, or perhaps that feeling never stopped, only pauses.

"Why are you out here in the garden alone anyway?" he asks after they both take their seat. "The whose who of the Fortune 500 are here tonight, hoping to hitch their sons and daughters to the Pendragon's name. Don't tell me none of them has caught your eyes."

She grins; his heart melts. "Maybe I'm just waiting for the right company."

"Do you say that to all the gents or am I that special?"

She says, "Witty and handsome," that entices another laugh from him. "How it it that ladies aren't swarming around you again?"

"Maybe I'm just waiting," he then lowers his voice, "for the _right one_ that is."

Something lodges in her throat and all she can croaks out is, "Of course."

He skims past her eyes then looks away. "Plus work also has been keeping me busy," he answers, "most people I've met, women included, have a death sentence. That makes it hard to date I'd say." It sounded like an excused that he has rehearsed and it is, and part of it, maybe, is that he really doesn't want to dig deep as to why it never works out for him and someone else. He wants to love, wants to feel it burns deep in the pit of his stomach and have it pours from his mouth, his touch and his kisses. He just fails every time.

"I keep forgetting that you're a doctor," she says, "though I'm not surprised. You have a lot of heart."

"Do I now?"

"Yeah," she softly answers, then repeats. "A lot."

He stares at his hand. Then he rubs them together. "So..."

"So..."

Sighing, "How long will it be until we talk about the elephant in the room?" asks Merlin.

"I can do this as long as you can."

He almost looks unnatural frowning and she's not used to Merlin's stern face. "Morgana."

"Being in this place have made you boring, my dear Merlin."

"Well, we all can't just disappear for 8 years and still have our sense of humor intact."

"And there's the elephant."

"You left." He doesn't add his name to the list but she hears it regardless. "Arthur was the most devastated from your absence."

She rolls her eyes. "He doesn't look too heartbroken from what I can tell."

"You dropped off the face of the Earth, Morgana. He spent months searching for you. I didn't hear from him until he came back five months later. His eyes were hollow. His face thinned out. He looked like he never slept or ate. He sank into depression the months after and I couldn't do anything to help. I didn't know what happened. Why you left. Where you went. Where he went." The colors drain from her face, and it almost makes him want to stop talking though he doesn't. He supposes it is because he needs this. "I know that you must have your reason for leaving but—" He stops because his throat has begun to close up, and his head has begun to spin. He swears he saw a drop of blood on the ground but it's probably his imagination. "Arthur loves you. Perhaps more than you give him credit for." She locks eyes with him, and the only thing he can think of is how beautiful she is. All dark curls and green eyes. He wonders why this hurts much more than her leaving and him agonizing over it days and nights.

Then she looks down when she notices his unnerving gaze, as if ashamed for having to break his heart again. "I'm sorry." She repeats again and again, like saying it with more conviction than the last would actually stop the bleeding and the hurting. "But I did what I thought was best. I couldn't stay any longer in this place. Uther would have married me off to God knows who if it meant expanding his empire. Arthur might love me, but he craves his father's approval more. I refuse to be piece of property in this game of corporate gains. Leaving was the only chance I had to take control of the little freedom I had left. You of all people should understand how I feel."

"I do," says he; his eyes on her as he quiets his voice, "_I just wish..._"

She supposes it must have been the aching in his voice, or the way he looks at her, like he needs saving, that she takes the opportunity and kisses him. Though if she's to be honest with herself, it has nothing to do with him and more with her. She just wants to feel something good, something bright and something that hasn't yet been jaded by the world around her; because Merlin is kind, and right; because when she's with him, she's a bit brighter too; but just for tonight so that it doesn't become a habit, this weakness of hers. When she pulls away, his brows pucker together all confused. "It's a kiss, Merlin," she explains to ease his worries, and holds his hand. "Nothing more and nothing less."

He nods. "It's just-"

"I know."

He nods.

Then she rests her head upon his shoulders, still grasping his hand in hers. "I know." She could feel his body jerking back and his muscles tense up. It takes a second or two before he relaxes, and allows them to be closed like this. They both slip into a state of silence and get lost in their own thoughts until Merlin speaks up first. "I miss you."

She almost didn't hear him because he spoke in such a hushed voice, like he's afraid of being heard.

"How have you been sleeping? Are the nightmares still keeping you up?"

She shakes her head, touched that he remembered.

"You're quiet. What's wrong?"

"I'm not much of a talker when I'm drunk."

His lips curl up involuntarily. "Somehow I don't believe that."

"I always thought that I would fall for someone like you," says Morgan, keeping a steady voice, as she stares at the way his fingers lace with hers, just weaving through one another like they could fit. She doesn't know why but her heart throbs at the sight. "When I thought about having a simple life, a house, some kids and some normalcy, I thought I'd end up with someone like you. It's almost funny to think about it now that things unfold the way it did."

"Really, me?" is all he can muster.

"I don't know if I had ever told you but you anchor me, Merlin. Or did." She remembers waking up screaming from the nightmares that felt too real and him soothing her, bring her back to sleep. He never once abandoned her or called her crazy for thinking that her dreams were more than what they were. Out of everyone in the world, he was the one she trusted. They confided in one another and became something for each other. "You are the calm and Arthur's the storm."

"Me? The calm? You must not have seen me during the period of your absence."

"Yeah," then she gives a dry laugh, "You're always the coolheaded one, and you're kind, sweet and loyal-"

He senses a _but_ coming on.

She raises her head away from his shoulder. "So much so that whenever we're together, Arthur is never far from your lips."

"Was I that transparent?

"Like a piece of paper."

He laughs.

"Tell me, Merlin," she says, "would you have run away with me?"

He doesn't even hesitate when he answers, "In a heart beat."

She then rests on him again. "Where would we run to?"

"Paris? The city of love?" He then looks back. "Is that too on the nose? Perhaps Prague? Rome? Or maybe somewhere East? Japan perhaps? I heard Tokyo is pretty nice."

"They all sound good."

"We could adopt different names. I'd still be the doctor that I am now and you can be a teacher that you have wanted to be since young. You're passionate and kind, so I'm sure the students would love you. There'd be boys leaving flowers in your classrooms everyday. One or two of those would be from me, maybe. We can have a dog, or a cat, or something. It doesn't matter. It'd be nice."

Now it's her turn to laugh at how fate has screwed everything up. The boy that gave her up and the boy that broke her heart. She wonders which is worst. "God, I wished that I loved you first." She buries her face into his shirt. "Sometimes I think things could have been so much better."

"No, no, no," he murmurs like a prayer as he brings his hands up to her cheeks and slides his calloused fingers across her smooth complexion. She holds her breath when his thumb finds its way across her lips, tracing it back and forth. He then dives his fingers underneath her curls and gently strokes behind her ear; he leans her closer and softly presses a kiss to her forehead. "Everything will be fine." Then he trails over her temple, her cheeks then down to both of the corners of her mouth with his lips. She stiffens then softens then opens her mouth for him to enter. She tastes of bittersweet and regret while he tastes like home, and wine. When her hand tugs at the hem of his shirt, red flags goes off in his head. He immediately takes her wandering hands in his. "I'm so sorry," he whispers, "I took advantage of the situation and I made a mistake."

"No, no. It's me who should apologize. I had too much to drink and well," she then smiles but it looks odd and out of place. "It won't happen again."

"Morgana." He exhales deeply and looks like he's caught between a rock and a hard place. He opens his mouth to say something, then decides against it and finally settles with, "Let me walk you back to your room."

She nods and lets him lifts her up to her feet. "Thanks." She then withdraws her hands from his. Neither talk much on their walk to her room and for some reason, it takes longer than it should. She supposes it's because they're now at an awkward stage. She feels like she's 15, going on her first date and being nervous for the end of the night. When they finally make it to her door, she looks back. "Thank you for the company, Merlin."

"Anytime." He gives her a full grin, teeth and all. "Just don't-" They both turn back to the door opening across from her room.

Arthur emerges with a half buttoned shirt. There are lipstick stains over his neck and lips. He doesn't look surprise running into them. A feminine hand runs across his chest before she walks out from behind. She gasps when she sees Merlin and Morgan standing. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't think-"

"Don't worry about it, babe," Arthur whispers, nuzzling her neck. His eyes never leave either Merlin or Morgan. "Just my sister and my best mate."

"Oh, hi," she waves nervously then gives him a quick kiss before taking her leave. Arthur watches her go then was about to do the same but Merlin calls him back.

"I don't want you to misunderstand," he says, holding onto Arthur's arm. "Nothing happened."

Arthur yanks his arm from his grasp and gives him a scrutinizing glare. "Merlin, is that lipsticks on your mouth?"

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**Author's Note: **sorry for my late, late update. Life's been busy. Anyway, hopefully this chapter is okay. This story should be a short one, no more than 10 chapters or so. Once again, thanks for reading :)


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